The Accused One
by Little Rachael
Summary: Wylfred sets out on his quest for revenge against the Battle-maiden, Valkyrie. Rated T for language and innuendo.
1. The One Who Seeks Revenge

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is based in part on a dream I had. If _Valkyrie Profile: The Accused One_ really turned out like this, I would be very upset. But based on what little I know of the game, the portrayal of Wylfred is probably accurate. This is not meant to be taken seriously, although I have tried to give it some semblance of a plot. You have been warned.

--

"Arngrim!" Jelanda threw her arms around her huge friend. "Thank the gods you are here! We are in grave danger! I beseech you, please help us!"

"What brought this on?" asked Arngrim, because Jelanda was acting all cute and feminine.

"We have to leave the castle castle before it's destroyed," she said, suddenly speaking in her normal voice again.

"Um...Couldn't you do that yourself? Why did you need to call me here?"

"I need you to _carry _me!" the princess answered, as if it were obvious. "I sprained my ankle!"

"Oh, okay." Arngrim picked up Jelanda and carried her out of the castle, glad she hadn't undergone some horrifying personality change.

Wylfred stood on the balcony, looking out over the small country of Artolia as the castle began to crumble, his two ponytails blowing in the wind. This made it dramatic, in spite of the fact that it looked ridiculous. He wore his hair this way because it was EDGY and COOL.

"We must stay here, Ansel," he told his close friend, Ansel. "Or rather, _I _must stay here. _You_, Ansel, have been a loyal friend to me until now, and if you wish to save yourself, I will raise no objec—"

Wylfred's proclamation of generosity was cut short when the balcony collapsed under them. Neither Wylfred nor Ansel screamed, for they had each prepared for death. Manly heroes knew better than to cry or complain when faced with death.

But something terrible happened. Somehow, when Wylfred and Ansel hit the ground, they were both alive.

"Maybe the balcony wasn't high enough?" Ansel suggested. "And since we were so close to the edge of the castle, it didn't fall on us and kill us."

"Another failure. Dammit!" Wylfred threw his sword on the ground, then picked it up again. "How can we become einherjar if we don't die first? And if we don't become einherjar, I can't get revenge on the Battle-maiden!" He sighed and shook his head, covering his eyes with his hand while his other hand rested on his hip. I can still remember that day, Ansel…"

--

"_I must get the Sword of Heracles!" shouted Thyodor, Wylfred's father._

"_All right," agreed the king of some small, nameless country. "I'll give it to you if you'll perform the completely meaningless task of moving this giant boulder!"_

_So Thyodor set out to attempt the completely meaningless task. He knew which boulder the king was talking about, for it was as big as he was. He grunted as he pushed against it, first with his arms, then with his back, as most people do, but he realized it wouldn't budge if he did that. So he decided to lift it and then tip it over. He squatted down and dug at the bottom until his fingers were under the rock._

"_Hey!" someone yelled. "That's not how you lift things!"_

_But Thyodor ignored him. After all, heroes did things their own way._

_Unfortunately, Thyodor was not meant to be a hero, for when his stance wavered, the rock fell. He managed to withdraw his left hand quickly enough, but his dominant hand was too slow and got crushed._

"_DAMMIT!" Thyodor cried as he yanked his right hand out from under the rock. But when he did, all the flesh was torn off with a sickening sound. "Now I won't be able to pleasure my wife!" And he realized that he couldn't use the Sword of Heracles now._

_Meanwhile, the king, feeling bad that Thyodor could no longer pleasure his wife, gave him the Sword of Heracles as compensation. The now one-handed mercenary, in turn, gave it to Wylfred._

_This event had absolutely nothing to do with Thyodor's death._

--

"You understand me, Ansel," Wylfred said to his companion. "You know that I must become an einherjar, get close to the Battle-maiden, and exact revenge upon her."

"But maybe suicide isn't the way to go?" suggested Ansel. "Maybe we should engage in a battle or something. I mean, she _is _called the Battle-maiden after all, and we're probably more likely to get killed on the battlefield."

Wylfred spun around and pointed his finger at Ansel's face. "THAT! Is a very good idea."


	2. The One Who Will Not Die

Wylfred and Ansel arrived at the battlefield, where they had apparently missed a battle.

"Another failure. Dammit!" Wylfred threw his sword on the ground, then picked it up again. "However…This battle was recent, so the Battle-maiden must be lurking around nearby. Although we're living humans, so we can't see her." And indeed, Wylfred could not see her, for he was an ordinary human.

"Yeah, I can see her, she's right there," said Ansel, pointing. Sure enough, from his point of view, the valkyrie stood about 20 feet away, calmly picking souls as though she were picking flowers. The truth was, Ansel could see Valkyrie because he had a secret that will be revealed later.

But his answer annoyed Wylfred, who couldn't accept the fact that maybe some people could do things he could not. "NO, you can only see her if you're a god, an elf, an einherjar, or one of the undead!"

"But—"

"EVEN THOUGH WE CAN'T SEE HER, WE KNOW SHE MUST BE HERE." Wylfred continued to rudely talk over Ansel until the sweet man finally gave up, and the two began to walk across the battlefield.

--

Meanwhile, a certain familiar blond character was about to make his first appearance in _Valkyrie Profile: The Accused One._

"I love you!" proclaimed Lezard Valeth, who had bleached his hair because it was EDGY and COOL. "But when I say I love you…I don't mean your face. It looks like a spit grill. Don't spit, that's not ladylike. I'm talking about your hot, ball-busting body." He then tossed away the object he held in his hands, which was a large centerfold of Mystina in high heels and a black bikini. Several well-built, good-looking men dressed in nothing but loincloths sprang forward to retrive it.

In order to boost ratings, Lezard had traded out Bellion for a dozen or so brawny men. They all more or less looked and acted the same, they were none too bright, and their names all started with "B," the only exception being Pool Boy. Most of them lusted after Mystina, although a couple wanted to hook up with one of his homunculi, and a few wanted Lezard himself.

Lezard had undergone even more changes. Instead of a teleportation spell, he got around in a big red convertible. And his outfit was entirely different It was almost completely made of latex: for the top he wore a bright red jacket with a zipper down the front. He wore the zipper halfway down so everyone could check out his chest. On the bottom he wore a pair of tight, tight purple pants that kind of sparkled. On his feet were a pair of black sharp-toed boots. The only accessories that actually suggested "Lezard" were his glasses and a pair of black leather gloves similar to the ones he wore in the second game.

"Of course," he continued, "there is _one _women to whom I can say…I love your face! I love your voice! I even love your personality! I really, truly love you! Now, gentleman, what is the name of that woman?"

"LENNETH VALKYRIE!" they all thundered, trying to hit that magical spot between "enthusiastic enough to win the young master's approval" and "not so enthusiastic that he'll think we're interested in her."

None of the men were interested in Lenneth, for nobody who loved the silver-haired valkyrie would ever join forces with or work for Lezard Valeth.

Lezard didn't know it, but he was treading on very thin ice. He'd crossed the gods before, and they had punished him by giving him the fashion sense of a color blind 80's fashion designer. Who knew what horrors would await him if he pissed them off again?

Arngrim and Jelanda hadn't managed to get very far before they were ambushed by a monster. They could have killed it just by poking it, but this was a great time to introduce the player to the battle mode. So after a very long tutorial that pointed out the obvious at every turn, the monster died.

"Arngrim, don't you have a brother or something?" asked Jelanda. "Let's go see him."

"That's where I'm going!" Arngrim snapped. But he was just in a bad mood. He liked Jelanda because she wasn't like other princesses. Most princesses sang songs and talked to animals. _She_, on the other hand, swore and torched animals with her Fire Storm. "Dammit, kid, where did you think I was going to take you?"

"I was hoping we'd leave Artolia and go on an adventure to look for the Dragon Orb or some other wonderful artifact."

"Hell, no. If I get caught up in that shit again, I'm leaving the fandom forever."

Artolia was a pretty boring country. Even the capital city, Artolia, was so uninteresting it was sad. The "finest" restaurant served Yamato cuisine, and was usually a place for Artolians to gawk and faint at the "weird" food. But it was perfect for a depressed painter who hated his life. Thus, it was where they found Roland.

"Why are we assuming this is the same time period as the first game?" asked Roland. "It could be earlier, or even later!"

"Well…The gameplay looks like the first game!" Jelanda pointed out.

Arngrim had had enough. He pounded the table as hard as he could with both fists, spilling the sake and also breaking the table. "STOP BREAKING THE FOURTH WALL!"

The manager of the restaurant billed him 50,000 OTH.

--

"BATTLE-MAIDEN VALKYRIE!" shouted Wylfred, waving his sword in the air like a maniac. "I AM HERE TO GET REVENGE ON YOU! I MEAN, PLEASE KILL ME AND MAKE ME AN EINHERJAR!"

This had been the fifth time he shouted this, and the third time he'd needed to correct himself.

"She's gone, you know," Ansel informed him.

"Shut up!" Wylfred yelled, turning on his friend. "You can't possibly know that because humans can't see her!"

"Wylfred…I have something to tell you." Ansel looked gently into his friends eyes and leaned his face forward.

"Wait a minute." Wylfred narrowed his eyes and stepped away. "You're not trying to tell me…you're in love with me? I mean, I know my two ponytails make me quite the sexy beast, but I don't want to ruin our _friendship."_

Ansel sighed. _He's in denial. _"No, Wylfred. The truth is…I'm your guardian angel."

--

"An angel," Lezard sighed happily as one of the men combed his blond hair. He didn't really like being touched by his manservants, but he figured it was better than giving them money. Besides, the last game had been sorely lacking in fan service for females. "She's like…an _angel, _Barry."

"I'm Bernard, sir."

"Whatever." The only name he remembered was "Pool Boy," because it was different from the rest. "You're one of the ones who wants a homunculus, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well then, you may accompany me to the graveyard tonight. I need a heart."

_Yes, you do, _thought Bernard as he began to weave little flowers into his master's hair.

"Billy, what have I told you about putting flowers in my hair?" Lezard demanded. The man missed nothing.

"Sir, we do not even _have _a Billy here," Bernard reminded him. He was a little older than the rest of the manservants, and felt no need to let this youngster boss him around.

"Of course." Lezard sighed, then plucked the flowers out of his hair. "The sun shall soon set. You, Buster, and Belinda shall accompany me to the graveyard."

"Belinda is a girl's name, sir."

"Then bring Pool Boy. And that new guy, Barney, just in case we need the extra help."

Meanwhile, Wylfred and Ansel had met up with some trouble.

Wylfred was just getting used to the idea of Ansel being his "freakin' guardian angel" when they were attacked by harpies. And when I say "harpies," I don't mean those freaky bird women from the first game—I'm talking about insane fangirls who had already begun writing yaoi fanfiction about every male in the game paired up with every other male in the game.

"Can I have your autographs?" asked one.

"I think that two ponytails hairstyle you have is really deep," another informed Wylfred.

"I wrote this fanfic about the two of you," gushed a third. "I'd be absolutely—"

"_NIBELUNG VALESTI!"_

As the ladies were sent to the special hall of Valhalla for fanfic writers (Lusrheim), their almost-victims looked up at the figure standing above them…and gasped.


	3. The One Who Challenged the Gods

The graveyard was across a small body of water in a nearby town called Flenceburg

The graveyard was across a small body of water in a nearby town called Flenceburg. It was a boring place, where the residents did nothing but talk about magic, science, and the next presidential election. Only the latter proved boring to Lezard, but his dim-witted manservants were unable to grasp any of it.

"So why are you Pool Boy?" asked Barney, who was trying to get to know the other manservants. "Do you clean the pool, or something?"

Pool Boy shook his head. "That's Barry who cleans the pool. I clean the pool room. Most, though not all, of us have names pertaining to our jobs. For example, Bartok plays the piano, Bird Man looks after the harpies, and Biff is Lezard's personal bodyguard."

"I…I see. So what does he _do, _anyway?"

"Do?" Pool Boy chuckled. "Why, he does everything—from contemplating the meaninglessness of life to searching for a cure for world peace! My master, unlike some people, has no delusions about how the world really is."

"What should I do, then?"

He shrugged. "I'm sure Master Lezard will find something for you to do."

"All right, Barney," announced Lezard when they stopped at the grave site. "Rule is, the new guy does the digging. Bird Man was the last to do it. I hope you are up to the task—Bird Man did a rather sloppy job and made it obvious someone had been here. I had to pay a 50,000 OTH fine and do 10 weeks of community service." He scowled as though the community service had left a bad taste in his mouth.

Barney nodded as Bernard handed him the shovel. "I'll help you out if you need it," he assured him.

"No," said Barney, "I must prove my own worth!"

Meanwhile, Lucian was very upset that there was now a character more emo than him.

"I don't get it!" he shouted. He threw down his sword, then picked it up again. "How could this be? First they leave me out of the second game, then that nerd tries to steal Lenneth, and now they've found a way to replace me!"

Lucian was home at the moment, tending to the tomatoes he and Lenneth were growing. He loved tomatoes, but he loved Lenneth more.

"What's more," he continued, "this guy wants to _kill _Lenneth! _Kill _her! That's even worse than what Lezard was going to do! If Lezard had succeeded, I'd still have Lenneth, only she'd be male and wear glasses."

Sometimes it sucked talking to himself.

And how, dear reader, would Lenneth look with glasses? About as nice as any other character with glasses, I reckon. But if every character had glasses, they would lose their uniqueness.

"It's a valkyrie!" Wylfred shouted eagerly. "No one else can use the 'Nibelung Valesti' attack!"

"Well…" Ansel said with hesitation. "If she's a valkyrie, then where's her feathered helm?"

"I am no valkyrie," answered the young lady in front of them. "I am Alicia, Princess of the Kingdom of Dipan."

"Dipan?" Wylfred frowned. "That's a pretty unfortunate place to be the princess of."

"I am looking for Rufus, Lord of the Gods," she explained.

"Rufus?" Wylfred's frown grew. "Isn't the Lord of the Gods named Odin?"

"NO!" Alicia yelled, suddenly angry. "Rufus and I took on Odin CENTURIES ago! The two of us, and one other!"

"One other?" Now it was Ansel's turn to frown. "Who could possibly be powerful enough to defeat Odin?"

Out of nowhere, a maniacal laugh sounded and floated over their heads before the realization came crashing down upon Princess Alicia.

"That voice!" she gasped. She looked around and saw Lezard standing triumphantly over an open grave. At least, she _thought _it was Lezard…

"LEZAAAAARD!" she called out to him. "What the hell did you do to your hair!?"

"I'll tell you what he did," growled Lucian, who had crawled into the picture when no one was looking. "He's trying to steal Lenneth from me! And he thinks that dyeing his hair blond and dressing in red is going to make her want me!"

"_Au contraire, mon petit _pipsqueak," said Lezard. "That did not occur to me in the least. Indeed, I had no idea you even existed."

"Who are those men with you?" Alicia asked.

"Oh yes—these are my manservants." Lezard gestured to each one as he introduced them. "Bernard, Buster, Pool Boy, and…" He looked around. "Where's Bernard?"

"I MUST PROVE MY OWN WORTH!" shouted Barney from about 20 feet deeper than he needed to be.

"Oh, Barney…" Lezard looked down into the grave and shouted, "That's enough, Barney! You're going to hit lava sooner or later if you're not careful!"

Ancel was standing back, watching the fun, when he felt a sudden shiver down his spine. Or maybe it was up his spine. He wasn't sure. _It's her, _he thought, horrified. _It's the Battle-maiden…and she's thirsty for souls._


	4. The One Who Wears the Toga

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I apologize for such an abrupt ending. As the release of VPDS draws near, I realize that this story is just getting more and more ridiculous. I generally don't have a problem with ridiculous stories, but I think they really ought to wait until after I have played the game for myself. I ask everyone who reads this to buy the game when it comes out if they can afford it and if the idea doesn't thoroughly horrify them. Until then, enjoy the final chapter of "The Accused One"!

"Well, brother," said Roland as he and Jelanda walked out of McDragon's, "you have officially destroyed something from every restaurant in Artolia. How do you feel?"

"I feel hungry," complained Arngrim, clutching his stomach. "And I wouldn't have broken anything if you two didn't piss me off so much!"

"Why are we pissing you off?" Jelanda demanded as she and Roland ganged up on him. "Just because we keep saying the word 'game'?"

"IT'S NOT A GAME!" Arngrim shouted as people in the streets gathered to look. "THIS IS NOT A FUCKING GAME! IT'S REAL LIFE, AND IF YOU CALL IT A 'GAME' ONE MORE TIME I'M GOING TO WRING YOUR BOTH YOUR FUCKING NECKS!"

Everyone stared at him, and then a few small children—including Jelanda—began to cry.

"Making a girl cry…" Roland shook his head, smiling. "You're terrible, brother."

"Shut up!" snapped Arngrim. "You _could _help me, you know!"

"How dare you use such foul language in front of my child!" roared an angry mother. "You deserve to be ousted from this country!"

"Lynch him!" screamed another.

"Tear 'im to shreads!" shouted an embittered father.

The crowd began to advance on the pissed-off mercenary, and he was about to "FINAL BLAAAAAST!" them all to oblivion when a buxom undead made her way to where they were—although humans are as a whole pretty dumb and they couldn't tell that she was undead.

"Please, everyone, calm down," she said. "This is my insane half-brother. He's escaped from jail and will be surgically castrated for your consideration. I wish you all well. Move along now, please, there is nothing more to see."

Once the crowd dispersed, Jelanda and the other girl had to help Roland carry his brother, who had passed out at hearing the word "castrated."

"So…who are you, anyway?" asked Jelanda. "And why did you call Arngrim your half-brother?"

"That was a lie, you noodle," she chortled as she patted Jelanda on the head. "Such a charming young one."

Jelanda would have attempted to blow the young lady to oblivion, but she was too surprised at being called a "noodle." No one had ever called her that before.

"My name is Ailyth," she continued. "I'm from Nifleheim, the underworld, where bad people go when they die. It is really not the nicest place to live, but it might be nicer if Odin didn't keep sending stinky humans our way."

"Hey," interrupted Roland as he attempted to pick up his unconscious brother by himself, "do you think you _ladies _could give me a hand?"

"Step aside, bro," commanded Ailyth as she shoved Roland out of the way. "I can handle this one myself." And with a loud grunt, she hoisted Arngrim onto her shoulders.

Jelanda's eyes shone with admiration. "Whoa, that's impressive!"

But Roland wasn't convinced. "That's suspicious," he corrected Jelanda. "I have a feeling she might be undead."

Ailyth rolled her eyes. "I just _said _I was from Nifleheim. What did you expect me to be, an elf!?"

"But you're so pretty!" gushed Jelanda, who had decided Ailyth was her new idol. Beautiful _and _manly. What more could a teenage ex-princess ask for?

"Undead women are allowed to be sexy," Ailyth explained to her. "Undead men, on the other hand…"

Somewhere in the underworld, Brahms sneezed.

Her eyes were as cold as ice. Her hair shimmered in the moonlight (Is it nighttime? Well, it is now.), and on her face was a frown that seemed to proclaim the phrase "defiler of souls" before she even said it.

"Defiler of souls!" said Hrist Valkyrie as she brandished her sword in Wylfred's general direction. "Your sins lay heavy upon you!"

"Wait a minute…" Wylfred picked up his sword and pointed at the valkyrie. "I didn't ask for this! I was promised Lenneth! I want Lenneth, not this freaky lady!"

"Freaky!?" Hrist sneered. "You're the first person to call me that since Arngrim. Speaking of which, I should kill him soon if I'm going to force him to be my einherjar slave."

Lezard looked as though he were about to cry. "I did so much…I bleached my hair. I changed my style. I even perfected my maniacal laughter so that it sounded even more creepy and nerdy. I did not want _you!"_

"Well…There is one way to get my sister." The wheels in Hrist's head were already turning. If she could get these fools to help her, then…

"What's that?" asked both men at once.

Gracefully, she placed a hand over her heart. "You must kill me."

Unsurpringly, both men agreed that was the quickest way to find Lenneth. But Lezard, being a long-distance attacker, didn't go charging at Hrist like some wild animal.

"PSYCH!" Hrist shouted as she thrust her spear at him, meaning to make him into her little einherjar slave.

"NO!" Ancel cried, and he dove between the spear and Wylfred.

_SPLCH!_ The spear made a sickening sound as it pierced Ancel's flesh. His eyes widened and he fell to his knees.

"ANCEL!" screamed Wylfred. He ran to his best friend and guardian angel's side, holding him in that special way that people do when their best friend/lover/rival/lifelong enemy is about to die. "Ancel, you can't die! I'll be left all alone with my reverse-Oedipus-complex mother!"

"Wylfred…" groaned Ancel as Hrist just sat there. "You must forget about your revenge…this is…my final request." Then he died, and Wylfred cried into the night.

"Your petty concept of revenge has cost you a friend's life," Hrist said. "Now you must shoulder the blame of having—"

"I MUST STRIP!" Wylfred roared as he took off all his clothing.

"Have some decency, man!" shouted Lezard. He did not find this statement odd at all, even though his outfit was not much better.

"My nakedness reflects my shame of having been such a terrible man," he explained. "I shall wonder the earth until I feel my blame has finally been removed from these fragile shoulders. I am a poetic sort, which is why I wear my hair in two ponytails, to reflect my dual nature and conflicted soul."

"Well, Mr. Poetic, at least put this on," Hrist commanded, holding up a sheet. "You're still underage, and the last thing we need is CPS making an appearance."

"Fine, then." Wylfred took the sheet from her and made it into a makeshift toga. "I shall wear this toga as a symbol of—"

"ENOUGH!" interrupted everyone (except Ancel, who was lying motionless on the ground). "Just leave already!"

Then, to everyone's amazement, Wylfred's ponytails began to spin, like propellers from an airplane. He slowly lifted off the ground, gave everyone a final sad look, and flew away into the sky.

When it was clear that he was really gone, Ancel sat up. He'd been faking the entire time, that…faker! "I feel bad doing such a thing, but the 'OMG REVENGE' routine was getting old _really _fast."

Hrist nodded gravely. "You did the right thing." A light began to surround her, and in her place stood Lenneth Valkyrie.

"Lenneth!" Lezard cried happily.

She looked at him disdainfully. "What the hell did you do to your hair?"

Alicia sighed. "It looks like this story is drawing to a close. And I didn't even get to see Rufus this time."

Lucian made a sound that indicated his agreement. He didn't want to say anything because if he did, he knew mean Lezard fans on the Internet would make fun of him for it.

Meanwhile, Lezard had driven over to Lenneth in a shiny red convertible. Apparently he thought it was even sexiser to dress like a 50's greaser, for now his hair was died black and he was wearing a leather jacket and even tighter blue jeans.

This author sincerely wishes Lezard the best of luck.

"We didn't really get anything accomplished, did we?" asked Jelanda.

Roland shook his head. "No, we really didn't. Once again, I'm limited to being a minor character."

"It's a shame," Ailyth agreed. "I was hoping I would get a bigger role in this—" She looked at Arngrim, who looked as though he were about to start smashing things. "…story."

Arngrim nodded. "I guess everyone will just have to wait and buy the game." Everyone looked at him incredulously.

Thus Arngrim met with his third death in the series.

THE END


End file.
